


from the ashes

by Satine86



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hospitals, POV Alternating, Sad with a Happy Ending, albeit just a slight divergence, circus fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: His last thoughts before the darkness won out were of Anne. He thought of her flying through the air, beautiful and free. He thought of her taking his hand, pulling it from her waist. He thought of her no longer bright and vibrant, but sad and dulled.He thought of how he would never see her again.





	from the ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teasockschocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teasockschocolate/gifts).



> This started as a conversation with teasockschocolate on tumblr. The basic gist was, "Phillip wakes up alone in the hospital and thinks he failed Anne. Things are sad." 
> 
> Since it takes basically _nothing_ to get me to write about these two nerds at this point... here we are. (Also I'm antivanruffles on tumblr, if you ever wanna stop by and say hey).

_“W.D. where’s Anne?”_

Phillip only took a long enough glance to note the frantic look in the other man’s eye, the sheer horror that was starting to bubble up, before he turned and bolted back into the circus. 

He could barely hear Barnum’s protests behind him, the startled cries of the troupe, the roar of the fire already growing louder in his ears. It was hot inside, the flames everywhere and the smoke thick. He had to pick his way around fallen debris, the sudden bursts of flame impeding his movements the further into the building he got. 

He had no idea where Anne could be, but she wasn’t outside with the others. That thought was the only thing that spurred him forward, sweat pouring down his face, his lungs burning. The idea of her trapped inside, frightened as the fire raged higher and higher was all consuming. 

Nearby a rope snapped, sending a sandbag engulfed in flames scattering right before his feet. Next a beam came crashing down, forcing him to scramble backward. 

His eyes hurt from the bright, oppressive flame while his throat felt like sandpaper, raw and rough from the endless waves of heat. Every time he tried to call for Anne, the words would stick, choked down by soot and smoke. 

The fire seemed to be everywhere at once, while Anne was nowhere.

It felt like he had been in there for hours, but he was certain only seconds had passed. His movements slowed, grew sluggish, as his lungs screamed for fresh air. The urge to turn back was strong, but his desire to find Anne was stronger.

He would not leave her alone, he would not turn away and let her suffer. He would not… let her die. That horrifying thought brought a fresh burst of adrenaline and Phillip made one final push further into the nearly ruined circus. 

Two steps.

That was how many he took before the sound of grinding metal and shattering glass came from overhead, loud enough to drown out the whirring roar of the fire. Phillip was hit by a fresh explosion of flames, the force blowing him back like one of the Barnum girls’ ragdolls. 

Two steps.

Before he was partially buried in the crumbling remains of the circus, the one place he had come to think of as home. The place that was a refuge. 

Two steps.

Then he was struggling to remain conscious, a gash on his head already oozing blood. His last thoughts before the darkness won out were of Anne. He thought of her flying through the air, beautiful and free. He thought of her taking his hand, pulling it from her waist. He thought of her no longer bright and vibrant, but sad and dulled. 

He thought of how he would never see her again. 

 

***

 

“No.” The nurse was firm, her cool gaze unwavering as she blocked the door to the burn ward. Her shoulders were back, chin lifted. She was obviously used to being obeyed. 

That didn’t really matter much to Anne at the moment. 

“Please?” she begged for the tenth time at least. 

“I have explained it to you already: only family members are allowed in the burn ward.” She eyed Anne sternly, one pale brow arching upward. “Are you family?” 

“No, ma’am.” Anne shook her head, practically deflating under the scrutiny. A thought struck her, a dim hope bubbling hope. “What if I know he would want to see me?” 

“Then he can ask for you when he wakes up. Until then, I have to follow protocol. I’m sorry.” Anne knew very well that the woman wasn’t the slightest bit sorry, but she had given up at least one small nugget of information. Even if it was utterly devastating. 

“So he’s not awake yet?” Anne breathed deep, it wouldn’t do to cry now. Only that was all she wanted to do. She wanted to collapse on the floor and weep until she had no more tears left. Instead she swallowed down the lump, blinked back the stinging prickle behind her eyes. 

The nurse sighed. “I’m afraid not.” 

Even after fighting her tears, telling herself she wouldn’t cry, Anne felt face crumple at the confirmation. She slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her sobs. 

“Please?” she tried once more, speaking through trembling fingers. “Can’t I just see him for one minute? That’s all. You won’t even know I’m there.” 

“I find that very hard to believe.” The nurse practically turned up her nose, and Anne couldn’t even tell if she meant because of the barely suppressed sobs, her soot covered clothes, or the color of her skin. Perhaps it was all three. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I do have patients to attend to.” The nurse turned on her heel, and quickly opened the door to the ward. Anne craned her neck when it creaked open, hoping to catch a glimpse of Phillip. All she saw instead was a white wall. 

Anne stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily through her nose as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Drawing her shawl a little more tightly around her shoulders, she turned and headed for the main waiting area of the hospital. 

Before she made it two steps, a young woman in a clean nurses uniform appeared in her peripheral vision. Anne kept her gaze straight head, not wanting anymore grief.

“I’m sorry,” the young nurse said.

“What?” Anne glanced up at her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated and Anne thought she truly was. “It really is policy, family only.”

Anne nodded, gave the girl a tight smile. “I understand.” 

“But,” here she paused, glanced around before taking a step closer, “if he’s awake on my next shift, I’ll tell him you were here. It was Mr. Carlyle you were asking after, right?” 

“Yes, it was.” Anne felt a fresh wave of tears burn her eyes, this time out of gratitude. “Would you really do that?” 

“Of course.” She nodded firmly, and for a moment Anne thought she looked closer in age to Caroline Barnum than someone old enough to be a nurse. 

“Thank you.” Anne gave her a watery smile. 

“What’s your name?”

“Anne Wheeler.”

“Okay, Anne. I’ll let him know you were checking up on him. Now, I should go and finish up my paperwork before you know who comes looking for me.” She pulled a stern face, with her chin tucked toward her neck. 

Despite everything, Anne managed to huff out a small laugh at the impression. The younger woman scurried back toward the door, leaving Anne alone in the hall. Not wanting to run into anymore people, she continued on to the main floor where she knew W.D. and Lettie were still waiting for news. 

The second she saw her brother, Anne couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He rushed forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, one hand cradling the back of her head as if she were a small child. 

“What is it?” Lettie asked, placing a soothing hand on Anne’s lower back.

“They won’t let me see him,” she cried, voice muffled by the front of W.D’s shirt. “He could die because of me and I can’t even be with him.” 

“Shh, he’s gonna be all right.” 

“You don’t know that!" 

Anne felt helpless and hopeless and guilty. The knowledge Phillip had gone back because of her was terrible, a heavy burden sitting on her chest like an elephant. The realization he had only done it because he loved her was even worse. And the fact she might never get a chance to tell him she loved him back was unbearable. So did the only thing she could, she clung to W.D. and wept. 

 

***

 

Time didn’t seem real. 

His senses, however, seemed too real.

First it had been hot, unbelievably so. The waves of heat rolling and crashing over him like the ocean tide. It had been loud too, so loud he couldn’t even hear his own heart thundering inside his chest. He needed to breathe but it was like he was being smothered, and his lungs ached so much he thought they were burst. 

Then it had been cold. So terribly cold. Chills wracked his body, and even though he knew the high price of fire he longed to feel it again. Anything to ward off the icy grasp that seemed to permanent his body.

After that was pain. Nothing but pain. A pounding in his head, a burning ache at his side. The tight, uncomfortable heaviness that settled deep in his chest. Like he was being squeezed by a python that never wanted to let go. 

Sorrow.

He could name it but he couldn’t place its source. 

The other sensations all eased in time, but that one remained. A steadfast companion as he slipped in and out of consciousness. 

He heard voices, most were unknown. 

“... been awake yet?” 

“Only in and out.” 

“.. keep him comfortable...”

Phillip thought about opening his eyes, tried to will them to do so, except they wouldn’t seem obey him. 

“... Anne,” a gentle voice said. 

“Don’t tell him yet,” another spoke. Did he know that voice? Was it P.T?

“Please send word when he’s awake.” That one sounded comfortingly familiar. Charity.

Once again he tried to open his eyes. But it seemed impossible, they were weighted down with lead. He sighed and shifted slightly, sleep once again winning out even as he struggled to stay awake. To ask someone about Anne. 

When Phillip actually woke for the first time, he found no one there. His throat felt raw, his head throbbed, and the moment he took a breath he started coughing. 

In an instant a woman in white was beside his bed, helping as best she could. When the coughing fit subsided, she had him take careful sips of water. He wanted to gulp it down, let it soothe his throat, but he knew that would only lead to more coughing. 

Slowly he managed to down a good portion of the glass, until his throat was no longer parched and his mouth didn’t feel like cotton. The nurse settled him back against his pillows and once he was comfortable again, Phillip’s thoughts to turned to other things.

“How did I get here?”

“You were hauled out of the fire. As I understand it, you were quite fortunate,” the nurse said. While her hands had been gentle, Phillip thought her face was stern. He quickly decided it would be best not to argue with her. 

“What about--” he stopped and looked around, tried to sit up again. “Is there anyone else from the circus here?” 

“No. I believe a few performers were treated for minor injuries, but you were the only one brought into the burn ward.” 

“Is.. could they have been sent somewhere else?”

“Not within city limits.” 

“Right.” Phillip nodded, stopped struggling to sit up. “What about Barnum? Can I speak with him?” 

“Yes, we’ll send word to him now that you’re awake but--” she cut herself off, pursed her lips together.

“But what?” 

“Well, let’s just say he’s dealing with a lot right now.” The nurse gently fixed his blankets, avoiding his eye. “You should get some rest, Mr. Carlyle. That’s the best thing for you right now.” 

Phillip didn’t want to sleep, but the pull was almost undeniable. His body felt heavy, his eyelids starting to droop before the nurse had even walked away. As he struggled to keep from giving in, Phillip’s mind went over everything. 

He thought about the fire, the fact he hadn’t found Anne. He thought about the words that had filtered through his semi-waking moments. He had heard Anne’s name. He had heard P.T. “Don’t tell him yet,” he had said. Don’t tell him what? 

Blue eyes opened with a start, the desire for sleep suddenly banished. Don’t tell him Anne was dead? 

If he hadn’t gotten to her in time, how could anyone else have? If she wasn’t infirmed like he was, where else could she be? 

_“He’s dealing with a lot right now.”_ The nurse’s words tumbled around his head, over and over again like ice in an empty glass. Cold and numbing. 

Phillip thought of the ruined circus, everyone struggling to find shelter while P.T. attempted to work his magic once again for their sake. The fallout of the fire, and trying to find the protesters who had started it. He thought of the troupe, lost and afraid now that their home was gone. He thought of everyone laying to rest one of their own. He thought of W.D. now alone and broken. 

Once again Phillip struggled to breathe, but instead of being choked by ash he was now choked by grief. He had failed to find Anne. He had failed her in life and love, and now even in death. 

He turned his head and buried his face into his pillow, hoping it would muffle the sounds of his broken sobs. 

 

***

 

“Has she eaten?”

“She drank some tea and pretended to nibble on a biscuit. Think it was more for my sake than anything, though.” 

“So that’s a no.” The word ended on a heavy sigh. 

Lettie said something else but she, Mary, and Florence had all started to move away from the door, their voices growing fainter with each step. 

Anne didn’t care that they were talking about her like she was a child, sick and contrite. Anne didn’t care that she could hear them, that they had long since stopped trying to be subtle. Anne didn’t care much about anything. 

She sat in the parlor of the lodging house she and some of the other women from the circus had let. She sat there most days, curled up in the window seat and watching the people walk by on the street outside. 

W.D. would visit her daily, tell her about the boys down the street in their own rented spaces. He told her about P.T. and his troubles, the money issues and Charity. Anne cared about that news, would have offered up some amount of sympathy if she hadn’t felt so numb. If W.D. could have only been able to bring hewr the news she wanted to hear: whether Phillip had woken or not. Charity had promised to send word, her own visits frightfully short as everything seemed to be falling apart at once.

Those thoughts brought on a fresh wave of guilt and worry for Anne, the idea of Phillip alone in that sterile place with only the stern nurse for company. No, that wasn’t true. There was the girl, the young nurse who had made a promise to Anne.

But how could she keep her promise if Phillip never woke up?

“You’re not even listening,” W.D. sounded frustrated, rocking back on his heels as he crouched before. 

Anne blinked down at him, how long had he been there? “I’m sorry,” she said. 

He looked worried, eyes pinched and face haggard. She felt bad for making him fret about her, especially on top of everything else that was going on. They had all lost their home, lost their livelihood; their futures hanging by a thread. Assuming P.T. could work his magic again. 

Assuming he even wanted to. 

“I brought you some of those cakes you like, from the bakery near the docks.” He handed her the small parcel, neatly tied with a length of twine. She could smell them through the box, sugary sweet, and for the first time in days she thought she might actually be hungry.

She offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you.” 

He returned her smile, a small margin of relief starting to relax his shoulders. At that moment there was a shriek out in the hall, several of them actually. A split second later it sounded like a stampede was heading toward the parlor.

Lettie burst through the door first, a small missive held aloft. “It’s from Charity!” she said, eyes glowing. “Anne, he’s awake!” 

Anne leapt to her feet, the forgotten parcel sliding to the floor as she nearly bowled over W.D. in her eagerness. It was like the world had gone from dull grey to vibrantly drenched in color. 

“I’m going to see him,” she said, already rushing toward the door. Nothing was going to keep her from Phillip’s side this time. 

 

***

 

The longer Phillip was awake, the more pain and trouble breathing he had. So much so the doctor eventually decided to dose him with morphine. It was supposed to help ease his breathing, and take away the pain. Phillip thought it did a good job of that. It was like floating, warm and gentle in a bathtub. Nothing seemed to matter, and he was fine with that. He enjoyed that brief moment of peace before he sank into the deepest sleep he had ever known. 

When he woke after his long nap, he found the pain still dulled, his chest less heavy though his mind was once again clear. Apparently rest truly had been what he needed. 

The nurse -- the stern one whose name he had yet to learn -- told him that Mrs. Barnum had been to visit while he slept. She had stayed with him for a while, but eventually visiting hours ended and she had been forced back home. She told the nurse she would return the following day. 

It was something to look forward to, at least. Though he knew what would happen. Charity was a kind soul, inherently the mothering type. Of course she would be the one they would send to break the news about Anne, even if he already knew the truth. 

He felt sick, but not in a way he could explain to anyone, not in a way they could fix. He also felt hallow, like he was empty inside and would never feel full or whole again. 

There was another nurse on duty, a young woman who didn’t seem old enough to be working there. She was a happy sort, bustling about and talking to the patients. Phillip watched her, needing any sort of distraction he could get. 

Eventually she made her way to his bed, ready to check his vitals and make certain he was comfortable. He learned her name was Lily before she listened to his heart, and lungs as he took in deep breaths.

“I will say you look a great deal better than when they brought you in. But I suppose that isn’t saying much.” She gave a light giggle.

“You were here?”

She nodded making her thick, dark curls bounce. “I’m still in training, they had me rotated to a different department before I could see if you would wake up or not, but I’m glad you did. Have you seen her then?” 

“Seen who? Mrs. Barnum?” He frowned at her. “She came by when I was still sleeping off the morphine.” 

“No, your girl, silly.” 

“My girl?” Phillip’s face twisted in confusion. What on Earth could she be talking about? 

Lily flushed a little. “Well I assumed she was your girl. Oh, she was in such a terrible state when you were brought in. Practically beside herself with worry.” 

Something lurched inside Phillip’s chest, lodged itself somewhere in the pit of his stomach. “Who was this?” he asked, trying not to let hope get the better of him. It wasn’t possible, was it?

“Anne, of course,” she replied with a sweet smile. 

The world seemed to tilt, and if Phillip had not been sitting in a hospital bed, he was certain he would have stumbled to the floor. He reached out and gripped her wrist.

“Anne was here?” 

“She was. But we couldn’t let her in to see you, they only allow family this far.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I assumed they would have tol--wait, what are you doing!?” 

Phillip threw back the blankets, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The movement strained his weakened lungs, made him cough and gasp for breath. 

“I need to see her. I need to see Anne.” 

“Well you can’t go anywhere in your state. You still have burns, and the doctor would never--”

Once again he grabbed hold of her wrist, desperate. “I have to see her. Can you send word to her?” 

“I suppose I could send a note to Mrs. Barnum? We have her information on file.”

Phillip nodded. “Yes, she’ll know what to do. Please?”

Lily promised she would, but not until he was back in bed. In that moment his comfort was the last thing on his mind, but if it brought him a step closer to Anne then he would happily follow orders. So he let her fuss over him before she scurried off to the nurse’s station by the door. 

He waited, tried to be patient. He knew it would take time for the note to get to Charity, more time for Charity to get word to Anne… and yet more time for Anne to find her way to the hospital. That did little to ease his restlessness, however. The nurse hadn’t been gone but a minute, and already his fingers were drumming an anxious staccato against his thigh.

Dimly he became aware of a commotion at the door. The stern looking nurse was holding fast to keep someone out. 

There were harsh whispers exchanged before the nurse drew herself up to her full height, and spoke in her most authoritative voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in, Miss Wheeler. We’ve been over this already, and besides visiting hours have already ended.” 

_Anne._

Before Phillip could even draw a breath to call out, Lily flew to the door to intervene. “Yes you can! He’s asked for her. I was just about to send a note!” she cried and brandished the letter like one might a weapon. 

The older woman seemed to take this news in stride. “Very well,” she said and stepped back, holding the door open wide. 

Then in a flash, Anne appeared. Her cheeks were flushed, her curls wild and unbound; she had never looked more stunning in Phillip’s mind. He was dimly aware of Lily in the corner of his eye, happily pointing toward his bed.

Anne followed the gesture, her face lighting up the second her eyes met his. She rushed to his bedside, sitting on the edge while her eyes roamed over him, making absolutely certain he was truly okay.

“You’re here,” Phillip whispered, still trying to comprehend the fact she was actually alive.

Tears sprang to her eyes when her gaze finally settled on his face. There was a brief pause, a barest moment of hesitation, and then she bent forward and kissed him while her hands gently framed his face. Phillip was too shocked to return the kiss at first, his mind needing time to catch up. Then his hand was in her hair, lips caressing hers.

He almost wanted to question it, a trick of some morphine induced sleep. But Anne saved him from further wondering, when she finally pulled back from their kiss and pinched his arm -- something he had seen her do to W.D. on occasion, when she was particularly annoyed with him. 

“Ow!” He rubbed his skin. “I am an invalid, you know.” 

“I know, because you nearly died!” Her voice cracked on the word, and she hastily swiped at the tears pooling in her eyes before they had a chance to fall. 

Phillip took a good look at her then, realized how tired she seemed; the dark circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped as if bearing a great weight. He knew he had been in the hospital for several days at that point, and he wondered if Anne had gotten much sleep in that time. If any. He frowned, now worried about her wellbeing. 

Despite her obvious weariness, Anne was still incredulous and he didn’t doubt she was ready to call him an idiot several times over. 

“Well,” she said. “Don’t you have anything to say?” 

Anything to say about running into a burning building? About his near death? Or about the fact she had kissed him? Slowly, Phillip reached out and rested his hand against her cheek. She turned her head toward it, pressed her cheek a little closer. 

“I thought you _had_ died,” he whispered. It came out like a confession, something he hardly wanted to admit. 

Her brows knitted together in confusion and worry, and she lifted her hand to lay it over his against her cheek. Her palm was cool and reassuring. 

“I thought you were in the building,” he told her, voice still soft, as if speaking it all out loud would somehow make it true. “When I couldn’t find you, and I woke up here, I thought… I thought you were dead.”

“I wasn’t in there.” She shook her head. “I made it out.”

“I gathered,” he said and gave her a slow smile; still awed that somehow his worst nightmare had quickly morphed into a blessed dream. 

They stared at each other for the span of several heartbeats. Phillip was vaguely aware of the nurses moving about, checking on patients. It reminded him that they weren’t alone, but it hardly seemed important either way. Little else really mattered compared to the knowledge that Anne was all right. 

“You kissed me,” he finally said and tilted his head at her. Even though it had just been once, he quickly decided that Anne could kiss him anytime she liked and he wouldn’t complain. In fact, he hoped she would do it again. 

Anne flushed slightly, her cheek growing warm under his touch. She pulled his hand from her face, wrapped both of her hands around his and cradled it to her chest. 

“I thought you would die,” she said. “I thought it would be all my fault, and I thought…” her voice trailed off, tears now rolling down her cheeks as her chin trembled. “I thought I would never get to tell you the truth.”

She stopped again, pulled in a shuddering breath as she blinked her tears away. Then she dropped his hand in order to smooth hers down the sides of his face, leaning forward until she was the only thing filling his vision. 

“I love you, Phillip.”

It was like getting shot up with morphine all over again, the gentle warming feel suffusing his entire body until he wondered if he glowed with it. He raised his hand to slip it under her hair, palm curving gently around the back of her neck.

“I love you too,” he said before tugging her forward for another kiss. And another. And another.


End file.
